


The Reverie Endeavor

by Aonva



Category: Personal - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 03:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17398904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aonva/pseuds/Aonva
Summary: Jean Lafitte, a year old high school based in the heart of Texas employs over a hundred people, including Ramona Joseph, a teacher's assistant that has been paired with a long time English teacher ever since the school opened its doors. Alexandra Tsuki has been teaching for over twenty years, and while she may have been opposed to having Ramona Joseph in her class, the two have grown into an odd pair of friends that introduce each other to brand new things every day. Sometimes it's little things like how to grade, and sometimes it's people that change their lives.





	The Reverie Endeavor

My day to day life was filled with something that I was sure that not many people would want to continuously live through,  _ high school _ . No, I had not been held back for several years in a row. I took on the role of a teacher, well, really the role of a teacher’s assistant. Being in a position of power while in a high school certainly has, and still does, manage to make me feel awkward, especially considering the fact that I did not have complete control of the classroom. It seemed to always feel as though I was in a limbo of sorts, where I did have a lot more authority than usual, but not enough to make huge decisions that would impact the students. 

But, before I could even get to the school that I worked at, I had to wake up, and that  _ is _ the hardest part of my day. My alarm always went off at six in the morning. I didn't have to be at school until around seven thirty or forty most days, so waking up at six gave me enough time to trudge out of bed debating whether I really should go in or not. Some days I found myself getting ready extremely fast and waiting nearly an hour to leave and other times I barely had enough time left to remember everything that I needed.  _ Today _ was one of the days where I barely made it on time by the skin of my teeth. 

_ Jean Lafitte High _ . That were the words in black lettering above the entrance to the high school. Every high school in the district, totaling about eight, were all named after somewhat well known pirates. I don’t know why and it certainly wasn’t obvious to some other as well. At  _ Jean Lafitte High _ I was in the English department, and for the time being I was paired with Ms. Alexandra Tsuki. She’s an older woman, with short black and gray hair that comes down to her shoulders. Alexandra Tsuki immigrated to America when she was twenty and because of her love of working with children, Ms. Tsuki became a teacher. Her devotion to teaching lead her to becoming one of the longest working teachers in the school district and the most well known. Ms. Tsuki has taught at almost every single one of the high schools, accumulating an over twenty year career. 

Being a teacher’s assistant in Ms. Tsuki’s room, even though it was  _ not _ a position I originally wanted to keep, had its amazing perks. Since she had been teaching for so long it seemed that she already had years upon years of lesson plans stacked up along with a tried and true method that made her Ms. Tsuki extremely effective whilst teaching. Due to these two factors, I had a significantly less amount of work than I would have if I was on my own. She made sure that everything she had learned about teaching throughout her career was quickly taught to me so I would be even better with helping her and the students around us. 

Our school had an extremely laid back dress code, allowing us to wear pretty much anything as long as it couldn’t be viewed as exceptionally inappropriate. This rule allowed me to wear almost anything that was in my out-of-school wardrobe and helped a ton. I knew of, and had even gone to, some schools where teachers weren’t even allowed to wear jeans unless there was a ‘’spirit day’’ or football game, clearly I had gotten lucky when receiving a job at  _ Jean Lafitte  _ based on this alone. 

Apart from the horrible time I had when trying to get out of bed, once I was up, I seemed to roll through the rest of my usual morning routine. I tried to keep it as simple as I could. My clothes were the first thing that would be dealt with, and it almost always ended up being a pair of black or blue jeans and a plain t-shirt that would be layered with a jacket later. Then, I could be found in my bathroom, brushing my hair, teeth, putting on deodorant, along with any other things that I needed that day. Since I had wasted a lot of time getting out of my bed, I was only able to grab a bottle of water and my school bag before having to take off. If there ever came a moment where I had more time, I could manage to make some impeccable quick toast. However, since that was clearly not going to happen today, I rushing out into my garage that house the first, and only, car that I had ever bought on my own. A 2016 Jeep Compass, silver in color with a surprisingly amazing turn radius. In the two years that I had owned the car, of which I lovingly named Geoffrey, there had been very few problems. The Jeep still ran. As long as it could get me from point A to point B, that was all that mattered. 

Driving to  _ Jean Lafitte _ wasn’t an impossible task and only took about fifteen minutes for me to get there on a good day. I took back roads as often as I could but with construction continuously creeping towards the smaller neighborhoods, I would sometimes have to take the much faster paced roads. However, when I arrived nothing at  _ Jean Lafitte  _ could compare to the overflowing parking lot that belonged to both students and staff. Mostly everybody knew that staff were to take the smaller parking lot in the back of the school by the bus drop off and the students could park anywhere else. But, this rule was seldom followed as everyone went where they thought was the most convenient. The only people that  _ did  _ follow this, to my knowledge, were the band directors who had easy access to the band hall from the back of  _ Jean Lafitte _ . Personally, I tried the best I could to park in the front of the school so I could get to the classrooms easier. 

The inside, and outside, of  _ Jean Lafitte _ made it one of the most memorable campuses I have ever stepped foot on. You wouldn’t usually think of a high school in the midst of semi-rural Texas to need all the equipment and aspects as  _ Jean Lafitte _ did. At times I wondered how it was still a part of Henderson Independent School District due to the large distance from the closest school in the district. 

As expected, even though the school had only opened last school year, some aspects of the campus looked aged beyond belief. Certain sections of the staircases were a great example of this, some had gotten stained from dropped drinks along with other items that just remained no matter what was done in an attempt to clean them. Still, most of the school looked amazing, and had new technology scattered all around that even I hadn’t seen before. 

Overall, my favorite aspect of  _ Jean Lafitte _ had to have been the library that was named after one of the HISD’s first principals, Lynn Morton. On top of the building having way too many rooms, the library carried on with the theme of being extraordinarily large. It was on the second floor, and when standing facing the front of the school you could see the windows that covered only a part of the back wall of the library. Like I had mentioned before,  _ Jean Lafitte _ had a lot of technology and equipment that I had never seen elsewhere, and inside of the library were a row of 3D printers that anyone could use. The only restrictions were that you could not print anything that resembled a weapon of any sorts. Which, of all the things that may have also been banned, seemed pretty reasonable to me. 

Upon entering the library, from any of the two doors that you were permitted to go through, you were able to see shelves upon shelves of books that went from about the center of the room and stretched all the way towards the back. To the right, and passed the librarians desk, was a large section that had about ten long desks in rows as well, with a project at the very front so that teachers could come in and use it at any time. On the lengthy desks were about ten computers going from left to right across the room, so it was normally for a class to only take up a third of that specific part of the library. On my left, and against the wall at the front of the library, where small study rooms students or teachers could use for whatever purposes they wanted. For an example, the gardening club (when not out in the garden they had made) often held meetings in the largest room against the far left wall that was the size of four of the smaller rooms put together. 

Of course, this setup also left room for several restaurant booths to be set up with table in between the seats. It created a lounge-like feeling in the brightly lit library that was teetering on the line of uncomfortable and somewhat homey. The library, along with the school, kept the colors of red and black, with the occasional silver thrown in for good measure. This meant that the carpeted floors were predominately black with small red detailing and the seats were almost all either silver or white. But, that was not all that  _ Jean Lafitte High School _ had to offer. 

When you entered  _ Jean Lafitte _ straight ahead was a wide spiral staircase that lead up to the second floor and fact to face with the doors to enter to library. Stairs to the third floor could be found in four other spots of the school both closer towards the left or right end. Ms. Tsuki, the woman who I was a Teacher’s Aide to, had a classroom at the end of the second floor, so I was lucky enough to only have to go up and down one set of stairs per day. Each of the three floors had four rows of classroom, one against the back wall, two in the center that helped divide the hallways up, and another against the front wall. 

Another thing to take note of upon your arrival at the top of the spiral staircase was that you were now facing the opposite direction that you were when you entered  _ Jean Lafitte _ . Ms. Tsuki and I’s classroom was on the back wall of the school, and the last room of that section of the hallway that we were in. This had its perks, no noise classes on at least one side of us at all times, and one of the two breakrooms of the second floor appeared only feet away. When looking at the school from the front entrance, our classroom was in the ‘B’ (right) side of  _ Jean Lafitte _ . On the second and third floors, this would be at the very end, but on the first floor the school continued on to make room for the ‘D’ section that contained the trainer rooms, team rooms, lockers, and the three gyms that we needed for some reason. 

Having finally reached and parked in my preferred spot in the morning about ten minutes before class supposedly started, I found myself seated at my desk on the opposite side of Ms. Tsuki’s and readying myself for the rest of the day. Our first period, out of the astounding eight that filled our day, was our designated ‘’conference period’’.  Since it landed so early in the morning, actually having a conference was a rarity. Usually, first period ended up serving us both as one of the two periods of the day that we could do nothing if we wanted. The second period being the sixth of the eight, our lunch period. 

At the beginning of the year Ms. Tsuki always had something new to add to her classrooms design. All that could be certain about the additions was that they were going to be some shade of blue. I had no problem with this color, it was much better than having a color scheme of yellow or, God forbid, plain gray. Our walls already took on the pattern of large white bricks, so anything as dull as gray on white would have driven me up the wall. Blue, however, was perfect, and was used in strands of lights, paper cutouts around bulletin boards, and quotes that Ms. Tsuki found to be inspiring plastered on the walls. I also didn't have a problem with blue since it was a close relative to the color teal, a favorite of mine for several years without reason or a question as to why. 

When the forty-five minute first period had finally ended and the bell had rung to signify the beginning of the six minute passing period, During this short amount of time where students were coming from all sides of the school into our class, we noticed that there wasn’t really a time were people weren’t walking in. Some ( from the classes across the hall or from around the corner) got in within the first few seconds of the bell ringing, and others (who had classes in the morning on the opposite ends or seperate floors of the school) would briskly walk in just seconds before the second passing period bell would go off. Once it did, anyone coming in afterward was supposed to be marked tardy but, leniency was Ms. Tsuki and I’s strong suit. 

On a good day, we would both be up and walking around to check attendance and on a day like today, one that seemed about average in both of our attitudes and moods, we would remain seated while reading off the daily schedule. As a Teacher’s Assistant it was my job to help the students that needed any extra help at all for any reasons. Since it was so early in the year still, we were still teaching about argumentative writing. I enjoyed writing, and with our students left to select a topic from the summer reading novel,  _ Outliers _ , I could see why they would need all the help that they could get. Even I despised the book, and I wasn’t even required to read it. 

This was the first of the three weeks that we were giving the students to write their, minimum of two page, essays. We had focused on parts of an argumentative essay during the previous week, hopefully that would help make these essays fantastic. Three weeks seemed like a ton of time, but when you had to draft, redraft in some cases, do any extra research, and make your final copy, along with only having the class time to do that, it dwindled down fast. 

Outside of the six periods of English that I was a part of, the school seemed to constantly add and change clubs.  _ Jean Lafitte _ hadn’t even been in operation for two full school years and it probably had more clubs than it did classrooms, and that was  _ hard _ to do. I wanted to start my own club last year. But once I learned that a different teacher had already done so, I withdrew without even doing what I should have done, which was go and ask if they needed any help with organization or  _ anything  _ really. This was Dungeons and Dragons club, and I  _ was _ going to become a part of it anyway that I could this year. 

In my original high school days, I was the driving force behind getting the club around to my peers. My father taught Dungeons and Dragons around the time that I had turned seven or eight, and I loved it instantly. WIth us moving constantly though, it definitely made it hard for me to even attempt to get a solid group together. We stopped moving my junior year of high school and when I learned that the, then called  _ Willems High School _ , had a Dungeon and Dragons club, well, it was probably one of the best moments of my young life. Thankfully, I did end up being in the class of the teacher who led it, and from there, for two years, I was the most punctual member of the entire club. 

Having only seen posters of the club, and not remembering much of what I had learned last year about it, I only had my best guesses to go off of information wise. It was one of the things that I ended up looking forward to on my Thursday afternoon. But, I couldn’t allow myself to focus on too far into the future as I still had to make it through seventh and eighth period. Seventh period was by far the most rowdy class of the year. The class had about twenty-five students, and every single one of them had their extremely expressive personalities. Eighth period was the complete opposite in terms of how they all worked. Seventh seemed to be much more cohesive, while it was perfectly clear in the last period of the day who belonged to what groups. But, all of the students seemed good enough and never (so far) tried to be overly destructive. 

Off of the posters in the hallway advertising the Dungeons and Dragons club I learned that it was going to be in class C2003. Telling by the first letter and number of the entire five digits, I knew that it was on the opposite side of the second floor. The last three numbers weren’t something I was completely sure of on the meaning, but they were there on every room, so they had to have some meaning. Just, I had no clue of what it could have been. Every week seemed to go by faster and faster as the school year progressed, and so did the time. I would lose track of the days which only made the realization that it was Thursday  _ that much better _ . Of course, this should have already been known because I knew that today was when the first Dungeons and Dragons club meeting was. 

When the last bell of the day rang out, making a three or four second long monotone sound, Ms. Tsuki and I both waited for all of our students to exit before we even began packing up our respective items. Ms. Tsuki usually carried a very small handbag with a plastic folder on most days, while I had my red satchel/school bag that contained a plethora of items. It didn't take long for eighth period to clear out, and within minutes the halls were cleared. We both walked together until reaching the spiral staircase that Ms. Tsuki walked down, bidding me good luck in what I was going to do. I don’t think she actually had a clue what it was I was doing, but she continued to support me nonetheless. 

Very quick, I realized that A2003 was a science classroom, and with the door wide open, I entered. Outside of most of the rooms in the school had a list of what the teacher taught for each period along with their name. This teacher's name was Mrs. Robespierre. All the science labs in the school had black tables that could seat two people instead of wooden desks like the rest of the classes. Mrs. Robespierre’s room seemed to be as bright as the soon, but seemed toned down by the white walls being covered with tons of posters. Some were recognizable to me as being from shows like Star Trek and others were references to things I had never heard of before. Maybe they were just referencing scientists, who knows? 

Robespierre sounded like a French name but when the woman spoke up she sounded entirely American. Mrs. Robespierre seemed to be a few inches shorter than I was and had back length yellow hair. Nothing stuck out to me about her appearance right away, but as I approached her to introduce myself it looked as though she had extremely pointed ears. I was at a loss for words and couldn’t remember what I wanted to say to Mrs. Robespierre, but thankfully there was no awkward silence at all as she instantly introduced herself. 

“Hey there,” the yellow haired woman greeted enthusiastically as she extended her hand out to shake my own. “I’m Michaela Robespierre, pleasure to meet you.” I looked around the class and saw that there was about ten or fifteen people spread out minding their own business. I recognized only one of the students as someone from Ms. Tsuki and I’s third period class. Them being here was nothing out of the ordinary. 

“The pleasure is all mine.” I shook her hand and her grip was a lot more tighter than I thought it would have been. “I’m Ramona Joseph,” I introduced, about to state that I was a teacher of sorts here as well before I was cut off. 

“Don’t worry about any form of introduction, Alexandra talks about you quite a lot, actually so I am very familiar with who you are.” Hearing this made me extreme apprehensive. Ms. Tsuki didn't talk about the woman who was standing in front of me enough so that I would recognize her on sight, so there was that. There was also the fact that apparently Ms. Alexandra Tsuki had apparently not just talked about me a little, but in the words of Michaela Robespierre,  _ quite a lot _ . As fast as I could, I attempted to rattle my brain for anything at all that I should have known about Michaela Robespierre already. There was nothing. 

“In that case,” I began, letting go of her hand, “I am just here to learn about what or how I can be involved in this club.” I worried that I may have come off as not being genuine, but hoped that I sounded as positive as could be. 

“Yes! How about…” Mrs. Robespierre paused for a minute, turning to look around her own room as if trying to come up with the end of her sentence. “I’m going to have you sit there,” she pointed to a chair at one of the back tables that were empty, “I will talk to the students for about fifteen minutes, because I have an amazing idea for what you can do.” Having not even known Mrs. Michaela Robespierre for a solid five minutes, she already managed to make me worried by her words twice. I followed her direction however, and proceeded to sit in the back trying to do a combination of minding my own business while she talked to the students and listening in for any of the information that I may have needed. 

Once Mrs. Robespierre had begun speaking I noticed a few more students had entered the room and taken a seat. I still only recognized the one from Ms. Tsuki and I’s class. The short woman took her time talking about the plans for her club, detailing how and when additional meetings would take place. Ten minutes passed, if it had even been  _ that  _ many and it seemed that this was shaping up to be a preliminary meeting to see who would actually be interested for the rest of the year. I had over estimated the amount of time that I was going to be spending sitting down in the back, which was good. 

While a large chunk of the group had walked out, a few of them had stayed behind and were talking with Mrs. Robespierre. It seemed that I would have to wait for a few more minutes. While this secondary meeting (at least, that was what I was calling it) went on for a greater length of time, Everyone else in the room was in the very front, but this changed as another person walked in on the same side of Mrs. Robespierre's class that I was seated. Another teacher, obviously. You could tell by the way that they were dressed. 

Mrs. Robespierre was quick to notice their entrance, and waved them over towards her and the small group of students that she was still talking to. I worried about what would happen once everyone had left. What would Mrs. Robespierre say? What if it wasn’t good? But, I still waited, and after a little bit more time, the five or six students that were part of this secondary meeting gathered their bags and walked out of the classroom. The two teachers stood in the front of the room, just barely out of hearing distance. They were clearly talking about something important, and if it was pertaining to me, I hoped it would be good. When it appeared that they were both beginning to walk towards where I sat, I instantly shoved my phone into my back pocket. 

While this seemed perfectly fine to Mrs. Robespierre, the second teacher seemed uncomfortable with the openness of this meeting. They didn't show much of any emotion on their face and their body language was hard to read because of the ambiguousness of what was happening. I didn't know whether they would have wanted me to stand up or not, so I pulled myself towards the edge of the chair, awaiting the first move from their side. Mrs. Robespierre pulled a chair from the nearby table when she was in front of me, causing the teacher next to her to do the same thing. They both now sat where they were directly in front of me. We were divided only by the long black table. 

This was the first time that I had the opportunity to see the teacher that had walked in a few minutes ago face to face. The man had a sense of appearing both beyond intriguing and coming off as the most boring looking person in the planet. He wasn’t wearing something that I would expect of anyone except the principal to wear in  _ some  _ cases. This person had perfect looking black slacks, a button-down shirt that was tucked in and paired with a patterned tie. His tie had blocks of gold and blue that clashed against the blue-green shirt. 

“Ms. Joseph,” Mrs. Robespierre began, turning first to face me. “This is Mr. Roses!” Roses. Interesting last name. At this moment I knew two things, their last name was Roses and he had an extremely well put together appearance. Before he even had the chance to, I pushed my hand out first to shake his. 

“It is a joy to meet you.” Mr. Roses was slow in lifting his hand above the table to shake mine, but when he did I noticed how warm he was. Not in a way that you could define as being clammy though. 

“Let’s not make this the last time then.” Mr. Roses had a very monotone voice that made him sound incredibly disinterested. I didn't know how to respond to him, but thankfully Mrs. Robespierre began talking again, contrasting greatly with the way that Mr. Roses sounded. 

“Alright! So!” She was very enthusiastic and had clasped her hands together as if she was having the best time of her life in this very moment. “As you saw, I was just talking to my good friend,” she pointed toward Mr. Roses, “and we thought of a good idea that you can completely turn down,  _ or _ you can accept.” Mrs. Robespierre’s face was getting red as it was clear that she was excited about whatever she was about to propose to me. “We, along with a few of our friends, have a little group that gets together for Dungeons and Dragons every Saturday night. Our party has recently started a brand new campaign and it isn’t too late at all to get you involved…  _ Only _ if you would like!” 

What Mrs. Robespierre had suggested, apparently with the support of the calm looking Mr. Roses, was that I join  _ them _ and a group of  _ their  _ friends out of nowhere. Mrs. Robespierre didn't know me personally and neither did Mr. Roses. This would definitely be on my top ten list of weird things to happen to me. I planned on accepting no matter what. If Alexandra Tsuki was good friends with Mrs. Robespierre then that was a sign that she was a good person. I had all day tomorrow to ask around about the Roses guy though, and if anything about them turns up as bad I would rescind my acceptance. That was my instantly concocted plan. 

“I am delighted at the quickness of you, Mrs. Robespierre, to be so inclusive. Would the other people in your referenced group be alright with this taking place?” 

“I don’t see why not, and please, call me Michaela.” A large smile was plastered across  _ Michaela’s _ face. 

“Then I would love to join you all. Is there anything that I need to bring, like a fee or anything?” The fact that Mr. Roses had not said anything yet since his introduction was worrying. 

“Of course not! As long as you have a set of dice and know how to play, bringing yourself is all that  _ I  _ ask.” I was going to answer with a yes to owning dice and already knowing how the game works, but Mr. Roses chimed in, causing me to not even try and speak as I wanted to listen to what he had to say. 

“Ms. Joseph, if you wouldn’t mind and if you had the time, you are welcome to come into my room after classes tomorrow so I can help balance out a new character and fill you in on what has happened in this campaign so far.” Mr. Roses’ eyes seemed to be tired, and what was more than likely causing his consistently monotone voice. 

“As long as tomorrow works for you,” I leaned back in the blue chair, trying to catch any glimpse of a reaction from the man sitting in front of me.

“Friday will be perfect. Especially since we will be expecting you this Saturday.” What he had pointed out was true. Friday would be the only day that would allow me to get caught up on what I would need to know. It would be like cramming for an exam that you couldn’t fail. 

“That sounds like an amazing plan, and  _ I will _ fill in everyone else on it in our group.” With that, Michaela Robespierre stood up. Out of the three of us she was an obvious leader. She was more than likely the Dungeon Master in the group that she had mentioned. Personally, I found myself satisfied about the events that had taken place, and while I wasn’t going to be part of the club (because asking about it had completely slipped my mind) I was glad that I had been invited to a group outside of the school walls. 

Michaela and Mr. Roses stayed back as I left, after having thanked them before I completely left the room. By now the school resembled a ghost town in every sense of the world. Taking my time to walk towards the spiral staircase the sound of hurried footsteps caused me to slow down even more, turning to see the face of Mr. Roses. 

“My class is here on the second floor,” he breathed out, now walking by my side as I held onto the staircase railings. “It’s ‘B’ twenty-five fifty-two, all the way at the end.” I knew where this classroom was. It sat around the corner from Ms. Tsuki and I’s yet I had not noticed a Mr. Roses at all in the past two years. Either he kept to himself extremely well or he had gotten moved from a different floor like some of the other teachers had been. 

“That’ll be simple enough for me to get to.” I didn't know Mr. Roses enough to try and talk to him about anything in particular.

We talked about the weather while we walked out of the front of the school, both of us clearly parked in the front where we shouldn’t have. He thought that the constant sunshine was boring, and I agreed wholeheartedly, expressing my appreciation for the much more cold and rainy weather. Mr. Roses and I held this simple conversation until I pointed out that I would be needing to get into my car and drive back to my home for the day. Mr. Roses did the same, him walking to the right of the parking lot and myself walking to the left. For a split second I wondered where Michaela Robespierre had gone and concluded that she parked at the back, following the rules of the school. 

**_*_ ** **** **_*_ ** **** **_*_ **

Friday started off with several things going wrong before I could even make my way into  _ Jean Lafitte _ . First, I woke up beyond late and had to rush through my routine to even get out of the house, and then, all the traffic in the world imaginable. Waking up late, I took responsibility for, but the traffic? Completely different. I didn't even think that the city was supposed to start building up the road until the next week, but whatever. It’s not like people actually have places to be. I walked into the decorated second floor classroom about ten minutes late, thankful that our first period was solely meant for conferencing. I was going to bring up what had happened at the Dungeons and Dragons club meeting the day before, but Ms. Tsuki very quickly beat me to the punch, making it the first thing she said to me when I walked in.  

Apparently Ms. Tsuki and Mrs. Robespierre had become friends when they had taught at the same school about four years back. Ms. Tsuki was so close with Michaela Robespierre that she was even at her wedding to her wife, who I learned also worked here as an art teacher. When I had mentioned to Ms. Tsuki that Mrs. Michaela Robespierre had invited me to join her group this upcoming Saturday she assured me that if I was worried about what the group would be like, not to, because if they were friends with the Robespierres (both Michaela and her wife, Lindsay) they would be good people at the very minimum. I continued on talking about the people that I was now destined to spend my Saturday with and asked if she had heard of a Mr. Roses. Ms. Tsuki ended up knowing as much about him as I did at that very moment. I debated asking another one of my friends that worked at  _ Jean Lafitte _ but decided against it for several reasons. 

The bad parts of the day eventually began blending into the good when someone in fifth period had decided to bring cupcakes for a reason that he never really specified. Everyone’s mood was a lot happier because of it being Friday, and that just seemed to make me feel even better compared to the beginning of my day. Once again, eighth period came and went, and when the bell rang Ms. Tsuki and I did what we normally did and waited back for the students to clear the hallways. Since Mr. Roses room was a lot closer than it could have been, I waited back a few more minutes in case any of his students needed to ask a him a question for any reason. I didn't want to barge in and interrupt. 

The waiting allowed me to grab the bag I carried and anything else I thought important enough to bring home for the weekend. Our classes were completely caught up on grading, and awaited the essays to be the final grade to be put into the grade book for this six weeks. I waited five minutes before I stood up and locked the classroom behind me. There was no exaggeration when I said that Mr. Roses’ classroom was right around the corner. All that I needed to get to his room was exit my own, walk along the sidewall that signified the end of the hall for maybe seven seconds and then head straight into the first room that I saw. There was only one room against side of the wall that I passed, and that was the teacher’s lounge. 

Knocking on the door before entering, I stuck my head in a peered around the room, not seeing any hint of Mr. Roses inside. I double checked to the numbers outside the door to the ones that I remembered. B2520.  _ This was the right place. _ Maybe they had forgotten what they had agreed to only a day earlier? 

“Ms. Joseph?” With my face turned away from the person who called my name I was shocked and nearly jumped out of my skin. Turning to face them I say that the voice did in fact belong to Mr. Roses. 

“You nearly gave my a heart attack,” I mumbled out, watching him walk into his room and taking a seat in the desk that was nested in the left corner of the classroom. He had two desks that blocked him off from the rest of the class and only left a small amount of room for him to get between the end of one of the desks and the wall it was parallel to. 

“That would never be my intention.” Mr. Roses’ class had a neatness that applied to every inch of the room. The posters circulating the tops of the walls all looked to be spaced perfectly. Everything seemed a bit dim, and upon looking up I realized that the light fixtures were all covered with colored paper that still allowed a small amount of light in. The atmosphere created was extremely comfortable. 

“Even if it wasn’t, you certainly are on the right track.” Unlike Mrs. Michaela Robespierre’s classroom, Mr. Roses’ had desks lined up in rows all facing towards the front. 

“Perhaps you’ll get a heart attack when with us Saturday and get to meet the rest of our group. From what I’ve heard from Michaela is that they are  _ mostly _ excited for another person to join us.” Mostly was good. I could handle mostly. There was a chair that wasn’t connected to a desk so I pulled it towards the desk the Mr. Roses didn't have his computer on, so that once again, all that separated us was a thin desk. 

“Who exactly are the ‘’rest of our group’’?” I didn't expect too many people, and my best guess was a group of seven. Six players, one Dungeon Master. The Dungeon Master, also commonly called the DM, is the person in charge of keeping everything moving and creating almost everything in the player’s world. Usually the DM was great at improv, but it didn't matter if they weren’t, even the thought of leading a game seemed daunting, but having to create it from scratch? Being the DM was a job that I could never do. 

“Six people, including you.” One person off on my guess, close enough. “That number also includes Michaela Robespierre and myself.” So there were only three people that I hadn’t met. “There is the other Mrs. Robespierre, Lindsay, along with brothers Griffin and Sam. The brothers are alright people and obvious both Robespierres are grand company.” Mr. Roses maintained his monotone voice and the well kept appearance from the day before. Today he still had on black slacks and changed out the blue-green button down for one that was a very pretty pink color. His tie was solid black.

“Who’s the DM?”  

“That would be me.” He must have been able to tell my face changed because he instantly knew that I didn't anticipate him being the DM. “Is it that unexpected?” 

“Well, considering that I don’t even know your first name, I can’t really comment on what I do or do not expect from you. All my current expectations for you at this moment come from the words that you’ve said so far.” 

“And what else is it that you can draw from me and my surroundings?” Our conversation was now taking a turn away from what I thought it would be focused entirely on, but, Mr. Roses held a conversation well, so I didn't complain. 

“You like to be organized and appear a certain way. I don’t know whether you sleep a lot or not because frankly, you also appear tired.” That was all I had to say about him currently, but if that changed in the future, so be it. “Do  _ you  _ have any opinions on me based on very little information?” 

“Well, as long as I can admit that what I’ll say wasn’t my first impression, then yes, I do.” Mr. Roses seemed calm while saying this, and I guess he was making a point. I didn't really say what I thought when I first saw him, but instead laid out what probably everyone could have guessed based off of his classroom and his appearance. 

“You’re constantly torn between being enthusiastic and outgoing and being anxious about all of the negatives.” 

“All that you’ve said to means suggests I get worried sometimes and hold myself back. I could say that about anybody.” 

“And I could say the same thing about what you have said about me.” 

“Simple generalizations,” I laughed out, watching as Mr. Roses nodded, agreeing with my statement. Not having much left to say on that matter, I leaned over to pick up my bag and pull two things out of. A partially blank journal and a pencil. “So, since you control the campaign, what  _ has _ happened so far?” I quickly changed the topic, allowing us to speak without any lengthened awkward silence. 

“Yes, the campaign.” It sounded as though Mr. Roses had completely forgotten my purpose of being here. 

I scarcely took notes on events in the campaign that I felt were important enough for me to need to remember. Mr. Roses was very good at explaining every detail that you could ever want and I appreciated how thorough he felt the need to be. When I wasn’t putting my pen against paper I looked directly at the person in front of me, watching him use hand gestures to create fluid movements that added emphasis to his steady voice. Mr. Roses’ face was framed by a pair of neatly kept sideburns that went all the way down to his jaw. It was just another thing to add to what made Mr. Roses appear oddly nice. 

When Mr. Roses had concluded his long explanation of what had happened over the past few weeks with the party, I felt overwhelmingly informed. The most important things that I learned however, was that they were currently in the midst of a fight with a fire mage. This meant that I would have to either wait until the mage was dead to join or just pop in randomly. Either were fine. This situation was also good so I could join the party right when they were starting a new mission. 

“What about characters,” I asked, leaning forward onto the desk a little bit, placing both of my arms in front of me covering my scribbled on papers. Before answering my question, Mr. Roses turned his chair slightly to the left to pick up a mug that was on the end of the second desk he was sitting behind. I assumed that there was something like tea in there, but it was clear by the smell that it was coffee. 

“Yes, that is very important... Since you thankfully already know how to play I went ahead and already printed out a blank character sheet for you. It is the same one that everyone in our group uses, so everything can remain uniform.” Once again, Mr. Roses turned and grabbed something off of his desk, this time the character sheet. When you used a character sheet you put specific information like your statistics on your wisdom, intelligence, charisma (the most important), and other things like what weapons or what alignment you were. 

“Do I get to choose my class?” 

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to, Ms. Joseph.” 

“One time, a few years back, our DM got tired of us and just began handing out all new sheets. No choices were made by myself or the remaining players.” 

“That just sounds like a fun idea to slip into some future plans.” Without saying anything in response I shock my head ‘no’ and mouthed the two letter word as well. “I promise I won’t do that, for now, however, I would appreciate it if you were not to select anything minotaur related for your character. That will be the only thing that I ask of you.” 

“Mr. Roses you do realize that what you have just asked me one of the weirdest things I’ve ever heard, right?” 

“And I am sure that things will only get beyond that level of weird once you meet the two brothers that have forced me to make a minotaur ban on our campaign.” He took another sip of the coffee that was probably room temperature at this point. “But, your character? Do you have any ideas of what you’d like them to be?” 

“As long as their charisma is high, then anything goes.” All the past times that I’d played it (mostly) didn't matter what it was. All I cared about was the one trait that I was horrible at portraying in my real life, charisma. 

“Well, if that’s all you would like, how does a bar-  _ no _ , how does a paladin sound?” 

“That sounds perfect.” AS the last word of my short sentence left my mother Jonathan began writing down on the then blank piece of paper. He was filling in all the numbers on his own, and probably matching them with the stats equal to those of the other members in his group. I realized I hadn’t given him a race yet, but wanted to wait and see if he would fill that section in on his own. His shoulders seemed to relax while writing, and eventually he turned the sheet around with both of his hands and inched it close to me so that I could read it. A paladin half-elf. 

“Well, you certainly didn't hold back on the charisma, Mr. Roses.” 

“Are you worried that it’s too much charisma?” 

“It benefits me, so I don’t see what I could complain about, just commenting and thinking out loud.” I assumed that I would be the one to keep the sheet, so when I felt our small talk surrounding numbers had finished, I carefully placed it into my journal, and shoved it into my bag.

“We usually begin at six and go until seven thirty,” Mr. Roses commented, watching as I had finished backing up the items. Upon asking where I was informed that Mr. Roses always hosted because of the large room that he could dedicated entirely to Dungeons and Dragons. In that moment I showed the utmost restraint because as much as I wanted to jokingly say ‘ _ what loser has an entire Dungeons and Dragons room _ ’ I knew that I would do the same thing if given the chance. 

Mr. Roses lived on Hana Street, and while it was a small distance from the school, it was in the opposite direction of my own home, meaning that without I doubt I would have to get on to some freeway nearby. Before standing up, he pulled out an ancient looking phone and asked if I wouldn’t mind giving him his number so we could further contact each other if any problems occured between now and Saturday. Obviously, for more reasons that one, I obliged. He instant sent me a simple message of ‘ _ Hey’ _ , allowing me to know what his number was to put it into my contacts. We stood simultaneously, making it seem like he was following me as I walked out of the classroom that belonged to him. 

“The weather,” I began, picking up the small talk from the day before. 

“Is beginning to get a lot cooler than in the past years,” Mr. Roses finished, quickening and then slowing down his pace so that he was now walking side by side while holding our conversation. 

“Just because it’s called Global Warming,” I said whilst tightening my grip on the railing while descending the central staircase, “doesn’t meant that we’re going to get any warmer.” 

“What a splendid way to put it.” For about five minutes while we walked to our cars Global Warming was our apparently preferred topic of discussion. Thankfully, Mr. Roses believe it existed. When it came time for us to part ways into separate sections of the parking lot Mr. Roses stopped walking for a second. 

“It’s Jonathan, by the way,” he clearly stated. 

“With or without a ‘h’?” 

“Without.” So, that was his name. Before I could even reply with my own he turned and began walking to wherever he had parked his car in the morning. I decided to raise my voice and respond with my own name. 

“Hey Roses,” I called out, causing him to slow down and turn around while he still was walking away. “The name’s Ramona.” 


End file.
